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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466782">The Daily Grind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Grindr, Gym AU, Hookups, M/M, Porn with Feelings, personal training</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:14:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,448</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22466782</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Some porn without plot and with slight feelings, from a birthday prompt about the boys meeting on Grindr when neither was using a picture of their face, and when they meet it turns out Armie is Timmy's personal trainer and they've been secretly lusting over each other for a while.</p>
<p>T, I'm so sorry I stretched your birthday from September to January by taking this long with your prompt. I hope this makes up for it.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Daily Grind</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LockLove/gifts">LockLove</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Spot me?” Timmy pants, the weight bar wobbling as he hoists it over his chest.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I got you,” comes the smooth voice from above, and as always Timmy wishes for just a second that he’d hear those words in any other context. A face swings into view above him, the brightness of Armie’s blue eyes just as shocking now as the first time Timmy had seen them. He’d been touring the gym as part of a halfhearted attempt at getting back into shape and he’d suddenly noticed one guy in the room was taller than any of the weight machines. The saleswoman had chuckled. “That’s Armie. He’s one of our trainers. If you buy a six month membership you’ll get three appointments with him for free.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Timmy signed the contract without even reading it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The free appointments had turned into a regular Saturday evening session in the weight room. Timmy’s resolve to get in shape had worked so well he’d even made a Grindr profile for the first time in his life, too shy to show his face or respond to any of the messages that flooded in once he posted a few pictures of his toned but lean biceps and abs. It was a start, but as Armie’s huge hands covered Timmy’s and returned the weight bar to rest, Timmy knew those people weren’t the ones he wished would notice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Great job today, Timmy,” Armie beams at him, playfully punching Timmy’s shoulder. “You’re really motivated, man, you’ve never missed a single one of our sessions. That’s awesome.” Armie ruffles his sweat-damp hair with a towel and Timmy tries not to stare at the back of his neck where the hair turns darker, finer. Tries not to think about goosebumps, about lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks, but you know I couldn’t do it without you,” Timmy tosses back, pulling the headband from his hair and tossing it into his gym bag. Armie trots ahead of him to the locker room and Timmy takes his time following behind, hoping to avoid the leap in his stomach that’s started to happen whenever he has to undress in front of Armie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Blessedly, the locker room is empty when Timmy arrives. He throws his bag into a locker, shrugs out of his green gym shorts and faded band t-shirt, and grabs his towel. As soon as he walks into the showers he realizes the empty locker room was not a blessing; it was purgatory. The showers are completely empty except for him...and Armie. Armie who is soaping himself up, his back to Timmy, artlessly whistling some tune Timmy might recognize if he could stop watching Armie’s sculpted ass beneath the streams of water. Before Armie notices his presence, Timmy looks his fill at the downy, damp hair on Armie’s calves, the slight dip of his waist, the swell of Armie’s triceps. When he takes a step into the room his foot slaps loudly on the wet floor and Armie jumps a little, turns around.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Timmy has never found a ceiling so attractive in his life. Even glimpsing Armie’s cock arouses an immediate need in Timmy, to be face down in a pillow, to feel the base of that cock in his palm, to slide his tongue between the balls that--well, fine, he also looked at those too before turning his gaze skyward. Armie chuckles warmly and Timmy pushes the thoughts aside just long enough to make eye contact and offer a weak grin. “Jesus, Chalamet, it’s like you’ve never seen a dick before,” Armie teases as he shuts off the water. On his way back to the lockers he snaps his towel toward Timmy, landing a blow squarely on the curve of Timmy’s ass. That’s all it takes. As soon as he hears the locker room door close behind Armie, Timmy dashes to his locker and retrieves his bag. All the weeks of sweat, touching, and teasing have come to a head, released by a single towel snap. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Timmy, why are you putting yourself through this when clearly there are a ton of guys who will fuck Armie right out of your mind? They’re right here for the taking.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He digs out his phone and opens Grindr.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The first couple of guys he sees he can decide about easily. Profile pic taken at Burning Man with an expensive DSLR? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pass.</span>
  </em>
  <span> A 15-sentence paragraph ending with “but I’m really simple and drama-free”? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Swipe left.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Then he’s presented with a set of abs. It’s not the first set of abs he’s seen on Grindr and he almost swipes left as he always would on a pic without a face. But something about these abs reminds him of the way Armie’s looked, glistening under the water of the locker room shower, as effortless and chiseled as the rest of Armie. The profile is short and sweet: </span>
  <em>
    <span>My place or yours? Just kidding. Mine, my weed is better. Yes, I’m sure.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s been a long day. Timmy’s dick has perked up at the mere </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Armie. He could use a nice no-strings-attached hookup and some good weed. He swipes right.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His phone is barely back in his pocket when it buzzes with a notification. The Abs have sent a message? </span>
  <em>
    <span>You free now?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Timmy slings his gym bag over his shoulder, taps out </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>An address follows but before Timmy can lock his screen another one pops through. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll buzz you in and leave the door unlocked. The lights will be off. It’s kind of...a thing of mine, if you know what I mean.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling those abs, the rest of that body, in the dark when it’s even easier to pretend it’s Armie? It takes less than a second for Timmy to tap out </span>
  <em>
    <span>you bet.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When his Lyft drops him off at the address that boldness is long gone. He presses the apartment number he’s been sent and a curt buzz unlocks the towering glass door of the high-rise apartment building. He shares the elevator with a terrifyingly fit couple in biking gear who can’t keep their hands off each other. It doesn’t help his nerves or his growing erection.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He finds the door number he’s been given, draws in a deep breath, and checks the number twice before trying the doorknob. He doesn’t even let himself contemplate what would happen if he chose the wrong apartment. The door opens easily into a dark room. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Either this is the right place or I’m about to get arrested for burglary.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Timmy closes the door behind him and leans against it, hoping his eyes will adjust enough to show him something in the unfamiliar room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“H-Hello?” Timmy calls, hoping his voice doesn’t shake and ruin the mood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Beside him, alarmingly close beside him, there’s a rustling and a cough. Timmy puts a hand out in front of his face and meets skin. Another hand. Soft in places but with roughened palms that Timmy immediately wants to feel against his thighs, his ass, his cock. Then, suddenly, lips on his in the dark, sighing into his mouth, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you for coming</span>
  </em>
  <span> whispered quickly against Timmy’s lips before the kiss resumes and deepens.Timmy doesn’t even need to close his eyes and pretend this is Armie; the pillowy softness pressing against his lips feels just the way he’s imagined Armie’s kisses would and he keeps his eyes wide open in the darkened room.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Strong arms wrap around his waist and he goes limp, laying his head on a warm shoulder and wrapping his arms around a neck that’s solid, reassuring. He’s carried into the room, deposited on a couch, and then suddenly he’s covered again with warmth, hands roaming everywhere so Timmy returns the favor, scrabbling at the other man’s clothes until he’s clawed the shirt away from the chest and abs that brought him here in the first place. Under his hands they feel just as he imagined they would, as he’s imagined </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armie</span>
  </em>
  <span> would feel. He memorizes the rippling muscles, thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>this may be as close as you get, remember everything, remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>. When Timmy runs his hands up the man’s back he arches into the touch and moans. Meanwhile Timmy’s shirt has somehow found its way to the floor while the rough hands he’d admired roam his chest, scratching at his nipples and dragging down, down toward the waistband of Timmy’s pants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, please,” Timmy pants between kisses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m--I’m gonna turn on the lights now, OK?” The voice in the darkness is no longer a whisper but is still hushed, and warm, and oddly </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It can’t be--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lights snap on beside the couch and in Timmy’s mind at the same time. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t be--</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Armie?” Timmy gasps.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s definitely him. The sandy hair, the ice-blue eyes, the skin and muscles that feel just as Timmy dreamed they would under his hands. But now the hair is tickling Timmy’s chest as Armie dips his head, the skin is flushed as Armie’s heart races and Timmy’s pulse kicks up as he thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And Armie’s eyes are staring a question into Timmy’s.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I--fuck, I’m sorry, Tim. I should have told you it was me but--I’ve been wanting to say something at the gym every day for weeks now and I feel unprofessional or like there’s no way I’m your type and I just thought if we started this anonymously and saw where it went then--” Armie breaks off and sucks in a deep breath. His muscles fill out pleasingly beneath Timmy’s hands. “I mean, I really want to keep going.” Armie runs two fingers around the waistband of Timmy’s pants, teasing. “Do--do you want to keep going?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Timmy would pinch himself, but Armie’s fingers at his hipbone are doing a nice job of creating a sensation that tells him this is no dream. “I, um, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he breathes. “I wanna keep going.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hoped you’d say that,” Armie brightens, and Timmy is forced to grapple with the knowledge that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Armie</span>
  </em>
  <span> had thought Timmy might turn him down. “Can I, um, show you the bedroom?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At Timmy’s nod, Armie wraps both arms around Timmy’s waist and stands up from the couch, lifting Timmy in the same motion, and Timmy’s legs wrap around Armie as if remembering a place they’ve always belonged. As Armie walks, Timmy leans his head against Armie’s shoulder, breathes in the smell of the soap and shower he’d seen Armie take just a few hours ago, never dreaming he’d be here now.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Surely Timmy must have realized someone Armie’s size would have a huge bed, but the implications of this aren’t clear until Armie tosses Timmy down on the duvet, sliding Timmy’s pants down in what feels like the same motion, and lowers himself gently, fully on top of Timmy with room to spare.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armie’s kisses feel different when Timmy can see his face, see the shadows his eyelashes cast against his tanned skin. The weight of him holds Timmy solidly against the bed for a moment, until Armie raises himself up onto one arm so that the other can trail languidly toward Timmy’s extremely interested cock. When his warm grip enfolds Timmy he surrenders, closes his eyes and gives in to the pure sensation. Armie works him slowly at first; then as Timmy begins to moan softly Armie follows his hand with his mouth, taking Timmy’s full length and resting there for a moment with Timmy’s cock pressed to the back of his throat, sliding his tongue up and down the underside. When he pulls away, Timmy whimpers at the loss, shifting his hips to press against Armie’s cock. “Please,” he whispers, hoping Armie will know exactly what he’s asking for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He does. He pulls some lube from his bedside drawer, drizzles it hastily onto two fingers. As soon as he begins circling Timmy’s entrance gently, Timmy whines and works himself onto them, desperate to feel any part of Armie inside him. Armie chuckles softly, working Timmy open slowly, leaning down to whisper into Timmy’s mouth, “do you want this? or this?” as he makes tiny motions inside Timmy that drive him progressively wild with desire.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Want--want you,” Timmy gasps, his hand scrabbling across the duvet to find Armie’s cock. He works it eagerly with his hand once, twice, and whispers, “I’m ready.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Armie drizzles a bit of lube onto his cock and presses gently against Timmy’s entrance. “Are you sure?” he asks, but his tone is teasing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, yes,” Timmy whines, and then falls silent with a gasp as Armie slides into him with a single firm motion, seating himself in Timmy and then breathing deeply. For a moment they freeze, not even breathing, eyes locked on each other, and then Armie rolls his hips and stars burst behind Timmy’s eyes. He bites his lip, tosses his head from side to side, mumbles things he hopes Armie can’t understand. As Armie’s strokes grow firmer and more assured he bends down to kiss Timmy and it calms him instantly, all movement gone at the touch of Armie’s lips.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With one hand Armie works Timmy’s cock between them, knuckles brushing Timmy’s stomach on each stroke until Timmy whispers, “oh fuck, I’m close.” When Armie reacts by slowing his strokes to a tantalizing pace, Timmy whines through his teeth and rolls his hips, hoping to tempt Armie into further action. It seems to work as Armie begins moving faster inside Timmy, hips snapping now, and when his hand begins to work Timmy’s cock again at the same pace Timmy knows why. At the same moment that he feels Armie throb inside him, his own release spills over Armie’s hand onto his stomach and their lips meet in a needy kiss.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, that was amazing,” Armie murmurs as he rolls to one side of the gigantic bed. Timmy can’t even articulate a response until after Armie’s disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a towel to clean them up. Timmy stands up shakily from the bed and begins to think where his clothes might be when Armie speaks again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Leaving so soon?” he teases.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I thought--usually with guys on Grindr I don’t stay the night, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you mind if I’m not the usual guy? I mean, I waited long enough for you…”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A grin breaks out across Timmy’s whole face. The room suddenly seems lighter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, same here,” he beams, tumbling back into the bed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Although,” Armie mutters as he buries his nose in Timmy’s collarbone and tickles his ribs, “you’re probably gonna need a different trainer. There’s no way I’ll be able to keep my hands off you at the gym now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>dreamofhorses42 on Tumblr.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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